The Climb and The Crossing
by greeneyedkc
Summary: If you hated the Red Wedding as much as I did, remember that Robb will live forever in our hearts and fanfictions: There was not enough time to hesitate. Robb had to accept Frey's offer or else he and his entire campaign for the North and for revenge would fail. He had no idea what was waiting for him.
1. Chapter One

Blue. Nothing. Red.

Blue. Nothing. Red.

Over and over and over again the colors flashed. The familiar surrounding, the room whose most insignificant detail I knew, was pulsing in unfamiliar colors and seemed distorted. Everything was quiet. It was like being trapped underwater. My chest hurt as if I had been holding my breath for too long. I tried to focus on the fireplace, across from me. Not my hands. Count. If I could count each brick I could somehow forget. What comes after 3? I couldn't get over the fact that the typically white fireplace also flashed blue. Then, it would become dark, then flashed red. The cycle was haunting and disrupted my counting. Instead, I gazed at each picture on the mantle; most of which I couldn't see, but I knew them all by heart. Smiling, laughing, lying. All lies.

A light pressure squeezed my shoulder, startling me. The room was quiet, peaceful, with the flashing lights and the numbness that had come over me. I knew there was anger and a horrible grief somewhere inside of me, but somehow I had managed to tune it out—or rather down, from a roar to a muffled groan. I turned to see what had interrupted my internal struggle and realized that the man I had let in earlier was still with me. He was wearing a police uniform. How long ago did I let him in? Was it only minutes ago? –it could have been hours? –maybe eons? Had he been here the whole time?

His lips were moving, but as to what they were saying, I didn't know. Staring at his lips I noticed that the top lip was much fuller than the bottom. His teeth were white, even in the darkness that surrounded us, contrasting his coffee brown skin. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, but his forehead was creased in concern and his eyes were full of sadness. I wanted to smile, to touch his face and to wipe away the worried lines. Somehow fixing whatever had made him sad. My face wouldn't cooperate though. And then the sound started to come back to me and the numbness in my brain began to melt away.

"Miss," I could here him say. "Amergin…Miss Casey… I'm sorry." Why was he sorry, it didn't make sense? "Would you like me to call anyone? Or do anything for you?"

I just stared at him, not really understanding what he meant by anything he said.

"Officer…"

"Please, call me Ben" the officer said, interrupting me.

"Okay… Ben," I whispered hoarsely, "is she really—" I didn't want to say it. Saying the words would make it true, but I had to do it. "Is she really… really…gone?" The words hurt more than I thought possible. Why did I feel this way saying it? I had seen it.

"The Paramedics tried, Amergin. They really did. And you did, too. But she was gone when they got here. I think, from what you were saying, she was gone before you got home, too."

I had nothing to say. What was there to say? I just sat looking out the window, watching the waves break on the beach. I needed to see her, to make it final. To know, and be completely certain, that my mother was not alive.

"I need to see her." I didn't phrase it as a question, because, in my mind, there was no question about this matter.

"I don't think that that's such a great idea. Miss Casey –"

"Amergin," I interrupted him.

"…Amergin. Would you like me to call anyone for you?" Ben's face was so full of pity. He knew that there was no one. My mother had left me completely and utterly alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was Uncle Chuck and I really needed to talk to Rayne; but I just had to see my mother, to ask if there had been anything that I could have done. Begging would be the best course of action – the world wouldn't restart until I saw my mom and I wasn't above it.

"Please," I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, "I need to see her." I chewed on my bottom lip, holding back the tears and hysteria I could feel inside of me, held back by shear force of will.

"Okay, we can make some phone calls on the way to the..." _morgue, _I finished for him in my head. Getting up from the couch, he let out a sigh and looked down at me. Then I got up, too, and grabbed my bag from the table in the entryway where I had dropped it before… everything. I noticed two pieces of _her _stationary underneath my bag that I hadn't paid any attention to before. One had my name on it, the other simply said "To the Officer." I slowly reached for them, calling out Ben's name as I did. He turned to me in the doorway, confused. We each took our respective letters, he opened his immediately, but I just tucked it away. It could be her last words to me forever. I would wait. After the officer had read the note, he looked at me for what felt like forever. When we finally stated walking toward the police cruiser, a woman I hadn't noticed earlier followed after me, she too wore a police uniform.

The night was cold, but it felt nice against my overheated skin. The air was refreshing and clean with the taste of salt and the smell of rain – Rayne. As I stepped into the backseat of the police cruiser I pulled my cell phone out and held the number three speed dial, it went straight to voice mail.

"Hi," said the Irish accented voice, "I'm sorry I've missed yer call. But if ya leave a message at the tone I'll be glad ta call back as soon as I can." It was nice to hear his voice; it was soothing, even if it was just a recording.

Beep.

"Rayne," I said in little more than a whisper, "it's Amergin. I really need to talk to you," my voice cracked on the last word. "My mom might be…" I couldn't say _it_ out loud, like if I said _it _then it would have to be true, and _it _couldn't let it be. "I wasn't there. Just call me back when you get this." I hit the end call button and stared at the phone. I guess Charlie would be next.

Ben looked at me from the driver's seat, "the letter said you would call him first. It also said that you should to call Charlie." I went into my address book to find his number and hit the call button.

"Hello," said a groggy female voice after the fourth ring. I checked the time on my phone, two a.m. Oh. "Hello?" the voice, I recognized to be Bella's, said again.

"Hey Bella, its Amergin" I said in the same hoarse whisper I used to leave a message for Rayne.

"Am, is something wrong?" Bella, always so perceptive, "Are you okay?" I wondered at how many phone calls she got at two in the morning to make a question like "_is something wrong?"_ important.

"I'm fine, Bells. Just get Charlie, would you?"

"Okay Am, I'll go get him," I could hear the phone being set down and Bella calling out Charlie's name on the other end.

Now a very tired and concerned man answered the phone, "Hello?" He cleared his throat, then said "Amy, is that you?"

"Yeah," again I was whispering. What was wrong with my voice? It was like all the emotion I refused to feel was constricting my vocal chords.

"Amergin," Charlie now sounded more awake, and much more like a police officer receiving bad news, "what's wrong?"

"Charlie, I'm fine. But Mom…" I heard a sharp intake of breath, "she did it." As Charlie was taking very audible deep breaths on the other line, my own façade crumbled a little, bit by bit. I looked at Ben driving and decided to tap his should, "Charlie, this is Ben. He's going to tell you what happened…" My voice cracked and died at the end of my sentence. Handing the phone to Ben, I leaned against the window of the car and closed my eyes.

"Hello... Charlie Swann?... this is Officer Ben Smith. I have some bad news..." I stopped listening to the words being said, and just let the officer's soothing baritone lull me to a half-sleep.


	2. Chapter Two

Casidhe

She had been terribly frightened when she heard the large group of unknown travelers entering behind her in her small meadow area. She was not ready had not prepared herself to see her family just yet and she was in no mood to fight; so, she had needed to count to ten before she got up. As she began moving, she reached for her knife—once she was clasping the steel, she found herself.

Cas had not expected to see the King of the North in the Westlands, especially since she had heard as she made her way home that the Young Wolf was in Riverrun. But, as she looked at Robb Stark, she knew that his appearance was an answer to her prayers to the Old Gods. She had wanted some convenient way to avoid staying in the Towers for long and now she knew what she would have to do—as long as the Starks and Tullys would play along.

"So," she began as the horses meandered around the meadow and their riders stretched, "what brings you back to the Westlands so soon? I've heard that Edmure had to accept a sister, but I didn't expect to see an entire wedding party." Cas didn't want to play her hand on the table just yet; she wanted to get more of an understanding of how much she could trust everyone present.

"Yes, Edmure is meant to marry a Frey," Robb started off cautiously, ignoring Edmure's whimpers in the background, not sure if she was actually Frey, "but I am meeting your father to discuss other things." Because of Robb's incomplete honesty, Cas could trust her gut instinct. That Robb was both proud and did not like to lie. This might be a problem for her plan, but hopefully not a great one.

"If I've heard correctly," Cas went on, determined to be brazen enough to impress Lord Stark, "you are actually meeting my father because he wishes for you to apologize to him in person for dishonoring your agreement to marry one of us," her flirty smile hid the nervousness she felt. Thank the gods she had stopped at the same family friend's home as her brothers, Lothar and Black Walder—otherwise she would know nothing and would have to go home, tail between her legs. She concluded, "I have also heard rumor that without Frey help, everything would be for naught. You have been backed into the corner and now your only hope seems to be a locked Frey door," making sure to stress that she understood just how in trouble the Northern campaign was.

"Yes," said Robb, slightly frustrated at this point of the conversation because he still could not be sure that he could trust the woman that stood before him and his party, "but it seems your knowledge is from a third party," he was growing tired of her games, " are you truly a Frey? What is your point?"

"Why, yes," she said brightly, ignoring Robb's accusations, "yes, I am a Frey. Unfortunately. I was born almost 19 years ago, now—Roslin is my older sister. There's quite a story that goes along with how Lord Frey and my mother met, but that does not play a part in the one I am telling now. As to having heard everything second hand, that's also true," she decided that complete honesty would earn Robb Stark's respect, "I've been away from home for, well," she made a slight pause as she thought, "for about as long as you have."

"And, presuming that you are telling us the truth, where have you been all these years?" This came from Catelyn Stark, marking the first time she had spoken directly to Cas.

"Lady Stark," her tone affronted and teasing, "I should be offended that you think I'm a liar," and then Cas laughed while saying, "but I am not. In fact, I think it's very smart of you not to trust strangers. I am of the same opinion usually."

"And, yet," the Young Stark chimed in, "I feel that you are about to break your own rule," Robb could see now, what she was doing. She was setting herself up to play her hand. To give Robb a plan, the very thing she had been thinking of when they first introduced themselves.

"Very observant, Wolf, very observant," Cas chuckled softly. She could play cat to a wolf, "I have a proposition for you…"


	3. Chapter Three

_A/N: There are potential spoilers in this chapter... but I am not really sure. They are hearsay and speculative. _

Robb

"I have a proposition for you," began the girl named Cas, her face cast in shadow from an overhanging tree, "I had not realized that you would be so willing to take my father's offer. When I had heard that you had accepted, I had thought that you would turn your nose up at a match with a Frey, Edmure. I did not think that you would marry a day after being told. And for that, I was relieved. Not to mention the fact that I've heard that you are an honorable and prideful man, Young Wolf. For these reasons, I was certain that you would not venture back to the Twins"

"What are you trying to get to, young Lady," said one of the guardsmen gruffly but not impolitely, "ye keep dancing around things. Ye say yer surprised to see us, yet ye ken that Edmure is a future brother-in-law. Ye ken the arrangement that yer father made with the King of the North, and still ye talk as if this is a mistake."

"I appreciate your honesty, Ser," she replied, "But I wish you would not be so quick to skip the dance. Dancing is one of the little things that gets one through life," she laughed and twirled about. Robb thought that while she was given her looks, her father had somehow passed on his craziness in excess to the poor girl.

"Well," coughed Robb, "I think it must be time for us to get going, as you said we have matters to attend to and a war to fight."

"Now, wait," she had stopped twirling once Robb had spoken up, and now her hands rested angrily on her hips, "stop giving me that look. I am not as crazy as I may seem to you right now. I am trying very hard to save your lives. You'll come to thank me eventually."

"What did ye say, Lady Frey?" said another of the guardsmen behind Robb, "what does that mean?" Robb knew without looking that the men had shifted so that their weapons were more accessible, quickly becoming more alert.

"I always try my best to say what is necessary," she began with a smile, now that she had their attention, "as I was saying earlier: you were not supposed to accept my father's proposal. You _should_ not have accepted his proposal, may be a better phrasing. I very much appreciate your campaign and have always rooted for the underdog—seeing as I often find myself in the very same position. My dearest father on the other hand, has a way with picking the biggest horse and, most importantly, having a huge ego—to make up for other things, to be sure," she finished her small monologue with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

"You know your father has joined the Lannisters, then?" Robb said slowly, trying to put all of the pieces together for himself. He had only looked at the arrangement made by Lord Frey as a means to his own end, and yet Robb had never considered the fact that Walder Frey might have been planning—all along—to ultimately get everything he wanted, "he means to humiliate me at a wedding?"

"I cannot, truthfully say that I _know_, in the sense that I was not told by my father that these were in fact his plans," Cas's statement made it clear that she believed that she was right, whether or not she had proof. Robb could not be entirely convinced, but he also could not endanger his very small party with the probability of being double-crossed.

"But," Cas continued, "when I stopped in to rest and break bread at a long time family friend's inn this morning, before coming here, I was updated on all the recent events in the Westlands. As I mentioned, I have been traveling for some time. During their recount of notable events, they first shared the juiciest bits of gossip: that my brothers had stopped for a drink the very day before, boasting about how they had tricked the mighty Northern Wolf," she said this while mimicking her brothers with a deep, brutish voice, "and that they were going to plan the greatest _Red Wedding_ that would be memorialized in song," she finished her skit and added, "—although my brothers would never say memorialized. You met them, they are quite dumb."

"Is this everything?" Robb was now certain that she at least was telling some sort of truth. He could not see what she would gain by lying about this.

"Not everything, I still have not mentioned what I think should be done about it, the proposition that began the whole story" she said slightly frustrated by his unwillingness to play in her game of words, "however this is enough for you to decide if you think I am worth your time."

"Give us a moment to speak, Lady Frey," Catelyn Stark said quietly to Cas, while pulling at Robb's arm to get him away from the eccentric young woman.

"Of course, of course. Take your time, I'll be over here," Cas evidently had lost her will to be ironic or at high energy now that her story was done, and instead walked over to her horse's blanket and resumed her position reading.

"I do not know if we can trust her," it was the first time Talisa had spoken since meeting Casidhe Frey, but Robb could tell without turning to see her face that Talisa did not approve, "we do not even know who she really is."

"I am inclined to agree," Robb could see that Catelyn did not enjoy saying that she agreed with his wife, but appreciated that the two women he most respected were willing to agree on a matter—unfortunately, he did not share their thoughts. But, he decided to not reveal what he though until the end.

"And, what do you think?" Robb asked his guardsmen.

"I ken she's a Frey, milord," said one of the men who had remained quiet and standing toward the back during the entire conversation with Cas, "I've seen her once or twice, but the first time was with her father and mother, when was just a wee barren. Her mother was most beautiful and there was much talk that she had only married Frey because she was already pregnant with another man's babe. Frey, having a great many children of his own already, did not think much of the addition of this one. Or that's the rumor about the girl anyway," he finished lamely. But this gave Robb hope that she was telling the truth about everything else.

"I have heard the story about her, too," said another man, "she's a famous lass in the Westlands. She's known for being outright opposed to everything Frey does, she ran away at sixteen to get away from Lord Frey and become a Dothraki warlord's wife—or so I've heard."

"Is this the same lass as that? I've heard that she wanted to be a dancer in Bravos, that she plays with fire swords and trained with the gypsies," at first Robb thought his guardsmen were making fun of the girl, but then realized quickly that they were very much serious about the gossip of Casidhe Frey. He turned to look at her reading on her blanket.

"So, all of you who have heard of her agree that she hates her father?" the three men nodded in response, "I believe we should at least hear what she has to say, and if we do not like it, then we will do something else," but Robb had no idea of what that _something else_ would be.

"Lady Casidhe," Robb called to her, "we have decided that we trust you enough to hear what your plan is," his smile was friendly. He liked this girl with her brazen attitude and the mythos that surround her.

"I am so very glad to hear," her irony was back in full force, but was now overshadowed by her excitement in sharing her plot.


	4. Chapter Four

Casidhe

As she made her way to her childhood home, Casidhe could hardly believe that the Starks had decided to go along with her harebrained scheme. They had listened patiently as she had explained herself completely and then had, ultimately, decided that they had nothing to lose if they played along. The river and the nearest castle loomed closer and closer as her horse plodded steadily forward. When she was within shouting distance of the Towers, guardsmen greeted her.

"Hello, Lady," shouted one, "what is your name and business here?" She was not really surprised that they did not recognize her, and she knew that their lack of recognition had nothing to do with the scarf she had wrapped around her head to keep the sun off her face. She had left the Twins three years ago and had not looked back. The few messages from her siblings that had made their way to her had changed Cas's mind about home—there were interesting things that happened in Westeros, and Cas was not one to miss something interesting, calling her back.

"Hello!" she yelled in reply, "I am Casidhe Frey." And with a slight flourish, for she always tended toward the dramatics, Cas pulled the scarf from her head and beamed at the guards, "I was hoping I would be able to see my father."

"I had thought ye had died, Cas," called a man from the right battlement. Casidhe recognized the voice but could not yet see the face, "but I'm mighty glad that the rumor is false. Let me look at ye!" Finally, Cas spotted the face she wanted to see as the doors of the Tower were thrown open and a bear of a man tumbled out. It was her older brother, Danwell Frey. With a squeal, Cas was off her horse and running into his arms. A servant and a guardsman followed out, one grabbed her horse and led it inside while Cas and Danwell hugged.

"Dan!" Cas was near tears, she had missed her older brother terribly, "I am so glad yours is the face I see first. Why didn't Ros pass the messages on to you like I had asked?" she had written a few messages home, too, while away. Even if she had hated her father, she had loved some of her siblings with her whole heart.

"She did, lassie, she did," he said laughing, "I was only teasing ye. I know that it would take a lot more than sailing across the narrow sea to kill off my baby sister."

"Damn straight, Danwell," they laughed together as they walked back toward the Twins. Even though she wanted very much to be with Dan, Ros, and her other siblings, Casidhe knew that she needed to speak with her father, "I need to see father right away."

"Ye look as if the idea makes ye sick," Dan teased her, pinching her cheek slightly, "why don't ye get some food from the kitchen, first, and then talk to him. You look as if ye haven't eaten a good meal in ages."

"I have had plenty of good meals, what I really need to do is speak with father. He has made a terrible mistake," Cas really needed to sell her story. She wanted very much to do something that upset her father, as well as play a pivotal roll in the war for the Iron Throne.

"Aye? What has he done this time, Cas?" Dan was trying to make her serious accusation into a joke; Dan did not want Cas to get in trouble the minute she arrived home. But Cas was on the warpath, already—rearing and ready to go. And it was unlike Cas in to listen to reason.

"You can listen as I tell father, I assume he is in the hall," she looked toward her brother to watch his face sink deeper into thought. She knew that her family had worried about her while she was away, but she could not help that she had a yearning in her soul to see and taste and truly experience the world—especially beyond the confines of Westeros.

"Yes, Casidhe. Tread softly, will ye?" together the two siblings marched toward the hall, and toward Walder Frey. Casidhe could feel her palms sweat and her heart pound when they finally turned toward the large oaken doors. This was it. She had years of practice in playing the fool and the drama queen, but now was the time to be as serious as possible. She needed her father to believe her, or else her whole "master plan" would fail.

Walder Frey was addressing a constituent when Cas and Dan entered the room. His gruff voice reminded Casidhe of the countless lectures she herself had received as a child from the man in the oversized chair—which matched his ego. When Frey finished speaking, he looked up and locked eyes with Cas, somehow sensing her presence. Nothing about his personage changed, however, to show that he even recognized her. The man that had stood in front of Frey turned to leave and Cas quickly took his place.

"State your name and your business in my court," Frey began with a bored drone. Cas now knew what game he was playing.

"Honorable Lord Frey, I am Casidhe Frey, daughter of the Head of the House of Frey and Lord of the Crossing," she began with an obviously drawn out sarcastic bow to her father, "I am hear because you have made a terrible mistake." Finally her father acknowledged the fact that he knew her. His smile began small until the crag spread across his face, juxtaposing most of Cas's memories of the man.

"Child, I knew it was you the moment you stepped into the room," his voice was radiating happiness, "and that's not just because a servant announced your arrival before you entered the chamber." Her father's pleasure and joking manner threw her off balance, but she would not be swayed for long.

"I am surprised you are happy to see me when I had heard that you planned to have me killed," she said harshly. She needed to be angry, but on the inside she was soaring with happiness—the man was finally, finally showing that he cared for her.

"Have…" he hesitated trying to understand her rationality, "have you killed? What are you talking about?" Frey's confusion was clear.

"I mean, I stopped in at the Inn alone before finishing the trip back to the Twins because I wanted to learn of Westland gossip—I discovered that you planned to help the Lannisters," at this she made a face of pure disgust, "and stab the Young Wolf in the back. Like the coward you are!" Her father's face had changed over the course of her accusation from happy to pure darkness. It tore at her.

"That," he said as clearly as the wine he had been drinking would allow, "has nothing to do with you. He broke a promise he had made. I want him to pay. You know nothing." He spat the last three words at her.

"What promise, in the name of the gods, is worth killing a man—or thousand of men—over?" this was the crucial part of her entire plan.

"The _King_ had agreed to accept a Frey in marriage, and in return I would help to fight for his rightful throne. He has turned his back on the Freys," Walder Frey was yelling, "I will not be looked down on by a Stark!"

"And?" she said calmly, she could not lose her head.

"And? And!" he said, nearly hysterical, "and, he instead married some Valyrian bitch that nursed some of his soldiers," his yells reverberated off the stonewalls of the chamber. Frey lowered his voice slightly, "I hope she was worth it." Cas began to laugh. She had a great deal of faking laughter, but this was tricky. She really needed to sell everything she said. Play it all just right.

"Is that really what everything is about? Really, father?" her laughing subsided, "this is a new low."

"What the hell do you mean, Casidhe?" Frey did not want to play her games anymore. But that was exactly what she had expected.

"You foolish man," she said coolly, "I am the 'Valyrian bitch' as you so blithely put it," her tone was even, despite her racing heart and sick stomach. "I am wife to King of the North."

_A/N: Let me know what you think! _


	5. Chapter Five

Walder Frey

Casidhe Frey had always been outspoken and lively. Before her mother had passed, she had filled the girl's head with stories of bravery and magic; after her death, the girl clung to the stories to keep her mother's memory alive. To Casidhe, dragons were always hiding in the next room, she was the knight that would save the prince; life took on an amazing and magic-filled quality. So, at first, Frey had tolerated her childish drama passively. But, by the time she was a teenager, he was openly disapproving of her antics: she wore her brothers' hand-me-downs, played in the dirt well past a respectable age, and, generally, got into every sort of mischief Walder Frey had never before deemed possible for a girl—and definitely unfit for a lady. And while he loved Cas's wildness, he could not allow her to be untamable with a very loose grip on reality.

So, as he listened to Cas declare herself the wife of the Stark Lord, Frey knew only one thing: eloping to the King of the North was exactly the sort of thing Casidhe would do. She had always lived her life spontaneously and with whimsy, she had run away three years ago without any word prior to her departure, leaving only a note stating "for love of adventure, for love of life_" _in high Valyrian. It had taken them a week to translate it. Walder Frey still kept the note as a memento of the wild child who had left it, but he also recognized that the life of a proper lady had never been something that could ever fit his daughter. So the rumor that the Wolf had married a foreigner of possible noble birth could have been the girl with suntanned skin and bright curious eyes standing before him.

She was the only one of Frey's daughters that actually understood the father, and she knew just how to manipulate him. When she was younger she could get away with anything and as she got older, she constantly challenged him. It was rather unfortunate that there were so many rumors saying that she was not a legitimate Frey. Some of his children had treated her differently because she was not necessarily a true part of the family, and for that reason she had always felt a need to prove herself.

"If what you say is true," Walder Frey began slowly, "how can you prove it?" he had a gut feeling that she was telling the truth, because he expected nothing less crazy from Casidhe. And, because of her unpredictability, Frey had come to believe anything impossible was highly probably. In her eighteen years of life, she had managed to do every sort of damage otherwise unimaginable on the Crossing.

"My husband waits for me down the road," she said the word husband softly, as if the word was something to revere, "I had tried to steer him away from accepting your proposal because I knew, Lord Father, I knew."

"You knew what, child? You have not been home for years. How would you know anything?" And yet, Frey couldn't help but smirk. Casidhe did know exactly what he had planned to do all along with what his compatriots were calling "the Red Wedding." She, of course, saw straight through him, he never understood how she could do it—but he appreciated her cunning.

"Do not insult me," she was stepping closer to his chair, slowly making her way to the center of the room—her stage. Frey could see she needed to make a scene, she always held an audience captive. He remembered her, age eight, being dragged by her ear into the same room while he sat in the very same chair. The woman in charge of taking care of the girls learning had boxed Casidhe's ear because she had fallen asleep during needlework practice the day before, so instead of going to her lesson that day, Casidhe had decided to play in the stables. When she had run inside to grab something from her room, the nursemaid had found her and brought her straight to the central hall to be given a punishment. But instead of backing down, little Casidhe Frey began a very long defense of herself that had her father laughing so hard he was crying. And when she was given her punishment, she bit her lipped quietly took her paddling sentence. Her voice rang out, which brought Walder Frey out of his daydream, "you cannot deny that you had wanted to punish Robb for insulting you by marrying who you had assumed was not a Frey. Had he known my maiden name, the whole mess would have been avoided."

"Knew your maiden name?" He knew that she set herself up so that the dialogue would go as she wanted it to but, damn it, the kid was smart, "why didn't you tell him your name?"

"Like I had wanted anyone to know who I am or where I come from?" she answered with a question, "I left home to be a different person, meeting Robb gave me that opportunity. But, it seems, I cannot ever wash away my childhood and I will never be able to outrun your legacy—the Twins haunt me wherever I go."

"You are ashamed of me, then? Is that it girl?" Frey was actually beginning to feel angry. He was so proud of who she had become, even if he had tried to force her to be someone else. Walder Frey had only wanted to protect her, as he had promised her mother, so her admission that she did not appreciate him and everything that he had given her was a slash to his ego.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Casidhe's voice cut the air and Lord Frey's pride like a blade, "you have said so yourself, none of your children are able to make good matches—not that that ever bothered me, personally. Not to mention the fact that you were so willing to cross the Wolf and get in bed with a Lion."

"You know a bit about betrayal, don't you?" whispered Frey darkly, "you turned your back on me."

"Betrayal?" she looked hurt, "I have _never _betrayed you, or this god forsaken House. Did I turn my back? Maybe. But I ran away to find myself outside of the Frey," Cas was near tears at this point, "it is this family that has always turned its back on me, but you especially have betrayed me on multiple occasions. So, I do not understand why your murder plot affected me so."

"I have never betrayed you!" Cas had finally pushed the Lord exactly where she needed him to be, Frey was angry and yelling.

"What would you call every instance that you punished me for being honest or true to myself? Betrayal," her cool tone contrasted his hot temper. She needed him hot-headed.

"I was protecting ye, ye stupid child!" Frey knew that this was her personal specialty, making him angry beyond belief. But, he felt righteous in his anger; she should understand how much he loved her and just how hurt he had been when she had abandoned the Towers. His yelling had drawn others into the hall, but the room was dead silent in between their exchanges.

"I am no longer a child, but a married woman," she paused to stare Walder Frey down, " I am married to the man you wanted to so callously and maliciously kill because you felt slighted," while her tone was neutral, her eyes threw daggers at the seated Frey, "yes, we are terribly young and foolish, yes, but the fact that we married because we were in love, and not because I am a Frey, means everything to me."

"So you've lied to him, have ye? Since he didn't know who your family was?" Lord Frey was finally calming down. He could not deny the truth of her words, and while he had never been accused of being sensible he had a fondness for this girl's logic. Frey had always punished her because he wanted her to fit in; it had taken her absence for him to realize that all she wanted in life was to stand out—so, in that way, he had betrayed her. He realized that now. But that still did not take away from the fact that he was not personally affronted by her disregard for his family's name.

"At first, I did not need to lie. I played doctor to his army, letting people talk as they pleased, never correcting their assumption that I was Valyrian and not just returning from traveling through the city. Because Casidhe is a fairly uncommon name and one that some of Robb's men might have recognized just because they are northern, I went by a common girl's name in Volantis, Talisa. But, when Robb and I began to grow closer, I asked him to call me Cas, claiming that it was just a nickname that I had earned and was fond of. He never pressed about the details of my family, taking what I said about my past at face value because that's the kind of man Robb is. He fell in love with just me."

"Love?" Walder Frey could not help but be incredulous. He had married a great many women, but understood nothing about love for anyone other than family.

"Well, maybe in the beginning it was not love. We had desired each other and we both are passionate people. I admire his honor, integrity, and strength, not to mention the fact that he is a beautiful, wild man—although he thought I was from Volantis, my Northern soul appreciated his ruggedness," she said this dreamily with a crooked, half smile on her face. All of Casidhe's anger and chill was wiped away as she talked about Robb Stark. Frey could tell that his daughter really had feelings for the man she described.

"Do you really feel this way for him?" Frey asked quietly, wishing he understood what she felt more completely.

"With every fiber of my being," replied Cas, "but you have made a deal with the Lion, promising to slaughter the Wolf in lamb's clothing. I had not known the impact of keeping my name a secret. I wish I had," Casidhe said with her head cast down, "I would have been more honest."

"It surprises me that Robb Stark is okay with the dishonesty. While you telling a story fits from what I know of you, Robb's acceptance of it is actually shocking," said Roose Bolton as _soft as a spider_, Frey was not sure when he had entered, but he could tell that his presence was not something that Cas had expected.

"He has not really forgiven me," Cas shifted uncomfortably, "but I promised to try my best to somehow undo what I've done and make everything right again."

_A/N: I thought Walder's POV might be interesting here. I'm mixing book and tv things in this chapter, so call me out ya'll if there are some inconsistencies! _


	6. Chapter Six

Casidhe

Cas could not believe that Roose Bolton was Lord Frey's fellow conspirator in the plot against the King of the North. She had not expected to convince anyone other than her father that she really had married Robb Stark and that she needed her father to back away from his deal with the Lannisters to rejoin the North's fight. Now, Casidhe needed to decide how much Bolton knew of the Starks, without having Robb there made that difficult. She was unsure what her next move would be—and although this was not the first time she'd found herself caught between the proverbial rock and hard place, this was one of her grander scaled schemes.

"And you think that you can convince your father to join the North because you've married Stark, is that it?" said Bolton mockingly. Cas knew that he did not believe her, and with good reason. She hoped against hope that Roose Bolton had never met Talisa.

"I think, father," her voice had a slight tremor to it so she decided to focus on the man who would believe her story, "that Robb never crossed you. While he may have intended to ignore his bargain, our marriage is convenient for both parties."

"Casidhe makes an excellent point," Bolton spoke up again, stepping closer to the center of the hall, "will we honor the action or condemn his intention?"

"The truth of the matter," Cas had decided in the moments it took Bolton to speak that she hated him completely and that was enough to strengthen her resolve, "is that action always takes precedent over intention. When I ran away from home, I had intended to find myself," she hoped an apology to her father would soften him even if it hurt her own pride, "but instead my actions caused my family heartache. This is not unlike Robb's intention to marry someone he loved, which ultimately ended with him fulfilling the promise he had intended to break."

"Both Casidhe and Roose make excellent points, but—" Lord Frey was caught off in the middle of his sentence by the great hall's doors opening behind Casidhe. She turned slowly, only to see the one person that she had hoped was running in the opposite direction. The man framed in the grand entrance to the hall had dark curly hair, blue shadowed eyes, and broad shoulders covered in furs. His solemn presence demanded attention and required respect.

"Lord Frey," said the man, Casidhe could not catch her breath, "or shall I call you father?" Robb smiled brightly at Casidhe, behind him stood his mother, Talisa, and the guardsmen. Cas could not imagine where he was going to go with this, but she had always been the one to throw the proverbial stick in the mill (if such a thing could be a saying). But, she would try her best to improvise.

_A/N: Let me know what you think about this short chapter :) _


	7. Chapter Seven

Robb

In the meadow, Robb watched Casidhe Frey excitedly tell his group that she had this elaborate ruse in mind to trick her father into believing that she and Robb were married, that she was the Lady Talisa, and that she had lied to everyone in order to get away from her family. And even though Casidhe was enthusiastic about the genius of the plan, Robb could see the sadness behind her words. She knew that her family would believe the lie because it sounded insane, her hand fluttered through the air as she spoke proving her uneasiness. Robb could see that the color had drained a little from her face, her cheeks were no longer ruddy but her green eyes continued to shine brightly. Her cloak was northern, it was a dark brown homespun lined with thick cream-colored fur; but the dress underneath looked foreign, especially when juxtaposed with the thick winter cloak.

"The madness of it all will make it seem as if I would actually do it," said Cas, "and the beautiful thing is that I can 'die,'" she said with a flick of her hands and a roll of her eyes, "in a few months due to complications of some sort and you will never have to see me again," she finished looking at Robb, she smiled as if she had performed a flawless routine.

"What if someone tells your father that I married the actual Lady Talisa?" asked Robb, "what if someone is there who knows the truth? And will your father not be mad for the simple fact that I had intended to marry a non-Frey?" he could not hide his skepticism. There were many faults within her plan.

"Or, rather, what if someone knows what I look like?" then asked Lady Talisa, "or, more importantly, why are you willing to help us?"

"All excellent questions," Casidhe smiled again. Robb could not help but like her, she had a fighting spirit and she enjoyed tackling problems, "if someone is able recognize you, hopefully we can get away with saying that you are the Lady Stark's maid. I know, not ideal," Lady Talisa made no effort to hide her anger, "but it would be an easy excuse. You are recognized with the Stark family because you work for them. And even if Lord Stark has been seen with you and that person tells my father, Robb Stark would not be the first man to sleep with the help—or so I would say. Your fidelity, Lord Stark, will not be an issue worth discussing when speaking with my father," she said with a laugh, the color returning to her cheeks and an easiness settling, again, in her shoulders. Robb felt that she was talking herself through the details as they asked them, which obviously reassured her that her scheme would withhold.

"I would never, never" Robb grabbed his wife's hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping the repetition of his words would reassure Talisa "break my marriage vows. Your father knows I am an honorable man." Robb looked at his wife, young and beautiful, carrying his child—his son, a Stark of Winterfell. Talisa was not of the North, but he loved her as much as he loved he loved his home, for she had become a part of him. Her brown hair and warm eyes warmed him on the coldest of the North's winter nights, and her body… just thinking of her in front of the fire made him want her more. He was dragged out of his thoughts by Casidhe's laugh.

"You would not be the first man," she paused a laughed harder, her painted horse flicked his ears behind her, "you would not be the first Stark to lay with another woman." The hiss from his mother alerted the group that Catelyn was indeed still with them, and she had not liked what Cas had to say.

"You, Frey, cannot cast the shadow of the father's sins upon his son," Lady Stark was visibly upset that the Casidhe Frey had spoken against Robb's deceased father, Eddard. Her face was red, her voice clearly unimpressed by Casidhe's laughter. Catelyn, since Ned's death, had been quick to defend his honor—and any of her children's, for that matter.

"I can do as I damn well please, if you do not mind, Lady Stark," her tone was sweet, but they left pinpricks on the back of Robb's neck, he could see the ice frosting her green eyes, "If I remember correctly, you have no room to speak on this matter. Snow fell in Winterfell and I know that you, Catelyn Stark, tried your best to melt it." Casidhe Frey still spoke conversationally, but somehow Robb could sense that the group was bating their collective breath. Casidhe was not laughing and his mother looked appropriately ashamed. And, as quickly as she had cooled the conversation, she was able to bring the tempo up and joke again, "anyway, my father has never been one for monogamy and I, myself, find it pointless," here she winked at the guardsmen, "but that's neither here nor there."

"And what makes you think that your father will not continue with his plan for a bloodied wedding?" Robb hoped that she had a concluding argument, because he desperately needed Frey's support in the war and could not imagine entering the lion's den given her testimonial.

"I believe that, despite my own outrageousness," Casidhe gave a dramatic twirl, "my father will respect our so-called union and back away. If he does not, well," she paused, "I think it is best that you wait at the inn. Send a messenger to your men at Riverrun and have them meet you here. You'll be completely prepared then, without risking too much," Casidhe's green eyes looked toward Robb but not at him, "it will be easy to convince my father that his pride is not worth all that much and hopefully just as easy to make it obvious that the Lanisters are not worth their weight in gold."

Casidhe ran her fingers nervously through her hair and Robb watched her carefully. She had stepped closer to the group while she spoke, and Robb could see the light freckles that dotter the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. She was a very beautiful young woman, but that was not Robb's reason for trusting her. In his gut, he could tell that she truly wanted to be a part of something greater. He could feel her passion for life and her love for mischief, something that he could not fully understand himself but completely respected. She was unlike anyone he had ever met before, and because of that he thought that she was trustworthy. He looked to his small group of guards, his uncle, his mother, his wife with his unborn child—he so desperately wanted to protect them, he had to have faith in this girl.

"We will all go to the inn, then," Robb said after what felt like a long time, "there we will wait until morning. After we have all slept on this idea, we will decide what is best." Robb turned away from Casidhe and looked to one of his men, "please ride back to Riverrun tonight and tell Blackfish that he and the rest of the men are needed at the Crossing. You should try to explain the…circumstances…as clearly as possible."

"Yes, ser," said the Umber bannerman, "would you really like to tell him…everything?"

"Best use your judgment, I think," Robb gave a small laugh, "I know that the whole thing sounds a wee bit…odd," he could not speak anymore about Casidhe Frey with her standing behind him, "let us see you off," he turned back to Cas, "and please lead us to an inn or some place we could stay the night."

"It would be my pleasure," she was at her horse's side, saddling the 17 hand high chestnut skewbald mustang. Robb could not but help to respect her all the more for her choice of horse, "I am so glad that you are considering playing along, Lord Stark."

…...

At the inn, Robb and Talisa could not sit together, to prevent even a passing glance or whisper to jeopardize the charade.

"I cannot say that I am thrilled by the idea of not sleeping with my wife for the foreseeable future," began Robb, already his voice growing husky from the idea of not being with Talisa, "and I do not like that you want to go to your father's house alone," Robb and Cas sat side by side at the head of the table discussing things quietly, Lady Stark, Lord Tully, and Talisa talked quietly amongst themselves but all the while listened to the conversation at hand.

"It is for the best," Casidhe no longer seemed nervous at all, she had eased everyone into her giant plan and now she just needed to execute the whole drama. She looked deeply into Robb's eyes, he felt more than anything that she was trying to express something without words, maybe gratitude—Robb could not be sure. "Tomorrow morning, I will go to the Crossing, your men will have arrived from Riverrun, and we will insure that the Red Wedding never takes place," she paused and left the room mentally, whispering, "no one should experience the pain of loveless marriage or unexpected death."

Robb Stark twisted uncomfortably in his seat, his furs suddenly becoming too heavy in the drafty inn hall. There was something dark in Casidhe's bright green eyes.


	8. Chapter Eight

Talisa

That night in the inn was difficult for Talisa. She had not been without Robb in months. She missed his steady heartbeat beneath her head as they fell asleep, each thump creating the perfect white noise. She could not even begin to pretend that Catelyn's soft snores were her husband's light-as-feather breaths. The small inn room was clean enough and there were two beds, which was all Talisa could really ask for.

But she was uncomfortable because Robb and the stranger Casidhe shared a room to make their storied marriage appear real—she was not worried that Robb would share the woman's bed. At least, Talisa tried not to think about her worry. Robb was honorable to a fault, yes; yet, Robb was not Ned. Robb had promised that she was his one and only, and she would have to take him at his word. It was his child that she carried—her son would be the first and most important Stark heir. That was what really mattered.

When Talisa finally drifted to sleep, she dreamt of wolves with green eyes and a bridge crossing blood red water.


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: Sorry the last chapter was so short. But I kinda liked getting Talisa's POV out there. This chapter will be kinda short, too, but I just want to get the story going in the direction that I think it needs to be. Let me know what you think.

Robb

He could not believe he had let her go to the Crossing alone. However, if he was being realistic, he had no choice. When they had shared breakfast in the common room, the inn keep's wife corroborated the Red Wedding plot with her hugging and her sad smiles. She had not been surprised at all by Casidhe's sad tale of star-crossed love and hidden identity. To play his part, Robb only needed to look angry but still in love. He hated deceiving the woman to his very core, torn between anger and hope that maybe he could save his family if he just acted the part. But Casidhe Frey seemed to feed off of the charade.

"Oh, this will be so much fun," Casidhe excitedly muttered after the old woman had left their table, "my father will buy into this story. He has to. She just proved it. And you're perfect. You look so… so conflicted. Just keep looking like this and it'll be perfect."

"Humph," Robb could only grunt in response to Casidhe's enthusiasm. He was not convinced this would work entirely, but he believed in the woman with green, smiling eyes. That, to Robb Stark, was easy.

When she left on her painted horse toward her father's home, Robb had a gut feeling that something would not go entirely right for Casidhe Frey. He watched her until he could not see her long braid swaying, and then for some time after that he just stood staring at the curve of the road where she had disappeared. His army reached him at the inn shortly thereafter and Robb did not think twice. They began the slow but short trip to the Towers, where Casidhe Frey was convincing her family that she was the Talisa that had married the Young Wolf.

"Do not let your guard down," he told his captains as they neared the Crossing. With his army stationed behind him, Robb knew that he would be seem threatening, which gave him an advantage. The gate's men let him into the Towers without a question and he walked with a Frey escort and his own entourage until he could hear voices slightly muffled behind the giant oak doors leading to the great hall of the Towers. Robb pushed the doors out of his way, interrupting Walder Frey mid-sentence.

"Both Casidhe and Roose make excellent point, but—"

"Lord Frey," Robb began confidently, he had practiced his entrance speech several times in his head, "or shall I call you father?" He paused, taking in the room around him, men and women gathered around the perimeter of the hall, children and grandchildren of Frey. At the heart of the chamber stood Casidhe Frey, back straight, chin jutted out in defiance of her father—but as she stared at Robb, her eyes betrayed some of her terror. Roose Bolton was unexpected, standing near Casidhe. He had fought with Robb Stark, had met Talisa, and now, Robb knew, had betrayed him to the Lanisters—he had thought Frey was too dumb to create such an elaborate scheme as the Red Wedding. Robb thought that Frey would have needed more than just revenge to motivate him, and now he saw clearly that it was Lanister money and security that guided both Bolton and Frey. But, now that he knew, Robb needed to somehow remove Bolton from the situation, or at least let Cas know that he knew too much.

"So, you married my daughter, eh?" Lord Frey's voice had caught Robb a little off guard, he had been looking at Cas, silently trying to tell her of the danger in the room that was lurking beside her, "she is a beauty, is she not? And you did not want to marry a Frey," Frey's laughter grated on Robb's ears.

"Look at us," said Casidhe with a small laugh, "who would want to marry into this motley crew?" as Casidhe talked, Robb walked up to her and grasped her hand, no longer torn at all with the lie that they were spinning—he only hoped that they would not get caught in their own web. Standing next to Cas gave Robb a reason to look back at his actual wife, his mother, and his own men, he could see that his mother and a few of the men recognized the threat of Roose Bolton.

"Ah. Lord Bolton. So kind of you to join the party," Catelyn Stark wanted nothing more than to protect her remaining children, Robb could almost hear the shake in her voice. But what he noticed more was a tiny unnecessary movement of Lady Stark's wrist, only betraying to those paying close attention that she had a weapon concealed there. She walked slowly and surely to Roose Bolton, Robb counted his blessings.


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, ya'll! I love getting feedback. Here's to more (mis)adventure.

Casidhe

His hand in hers felt weird. The rough callouses on each knuckle from gripping his sword, the sweaty palms, his wife's eyes like white hot irons—each detail filled Casidhe's world. For a moment she took her mind off of Roose Bolton and Catelyn Stark and instead remembered a world of dry desert heat and magic, of two men and lonely, cramped cities. But then Cas came crashing out of her daydream: Lady Stark was afraid of Lord Bolton. And there could only be one reason for that.

"Lord Bolton, so kind of you to join the Frey's to celebrate my brother's engagement," said Catelyn Stark, "we haven't seen you around the camps of late." All of Cas's fears were confirmed—the realization of it all shook her to her very core. Roose Bolton knew about Talisa, the real Talisa. Robb gave her hand another quick squeeze. She only let go to begin her dance once she felt like the Wolf's strength was her own.

"It is so good to see you again, Roose," the King of the North was properly in the room now, taking charge of the situation, "your advice was greatly missed."

"Indeed," she began, trying for strength, "your absence was felt in Riverrun." She could not believe her own ingenuity. She would use her upper hand—her father's love—and try her very best to cast doubt on Roose Bolton. The man was a pig: the stories of him only shadowed the beast that stood before her.

"Was it, my Lady?" said Lord Bolton wickedly, his eyebrows rising slightly.

"Yes, Ser, but now I see that you are here with my father so I suppose we should be properly introduced: I am Casidhe, formerly known as Talisa, Stark, wife to the King of the North and daughter of Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing," Cas's curtsy was deep and her tone seemed respectful, all bellying the lies that poured from her tongue and her hatred for Roose Bolton.

"Ah. So good it is to finally know your true identity. It's a shame we did not meet before this, I would have married you myself if I had known you were a Frey—" he looked to Casidhe's father, on his raised chair in the hall that Cas had grown up in and began to stroke Frey's ego—"I greatly respect the House of Walder Frey. Had I known, I would have loved to join our houses permanently," he looked at her, "but it seems you have taken a liking to the Stark." Two could play that game.

"Yes. I have found the love I had wanted my whole life," she looked at Robb seeing another man's face, "but you are full bull—" Cas was cut off by Walder Frey.

"Cassidhe! You have been lectured about this. Have the years that you've been away stolen the schooling you received as a child," Frey looked down at her, made her feel as if she were only a child, but she needed to win this battle and not back herself into a corner.

"Father, are we calling the switch 'schooling' now? That's inventive," she chuckled slightly, "but no matter your feelings towards me and my preferred vocabulary, you know as well as I do that this man has no respect for you and, for while he has sworn to fight for Robb he plots with the Lannisters to kill a king—Robb Stark may not be the first king to be killed under the Lannister banner, but by the gods of whomever you choose to serve, you will not murder my husband," she paused to underline her next point, "I could not live if I knew my father were behind the death of my loved ones." Casidhe could not help the pinpricks behind her eyes, but she would be damned before she let the entire hall see her cry.

"Everyone that is not directly involved in this matter should leave now," Cas said looking around at her family. She began a silent chant of her childhood mantra, _blood or not she was raised a Frey. Blood or not she was raised a Frey. _"I think you all have seen enough of a show to sate your bloodthirsty palates."

"Oh, yes, Cas? And what will ye do to us if we do not care to leave?" she knew it was Stevron who spoke from a shadowed corner. He had always hated Cas, but she knew it was because he had been a man when Walder had married her mother. He knew exactly what she was, and hated her all the more because she had always basked in her own imagined light, "will ye run to yer daddy? I do not think I see him," Cas took in a sharp painful breath, "I do not think I've ever seen him, Little One," her mother's pet name for her, the one that the older siblings that like her still used.

"That is enough, Stevron," at first she thought it was Walder, but the voice came from behind her. It was Danwell speaking from beside the door to great hall, "she is our sister." Casidhe loved him even more. He was her true brother, no matter what.

"And," began a woman's voice from somewhere near Stevron, "as our sister, we have a right to hear the whole story," Cas finally spotted which of her siblings was speaking and laughed.

"You, terrible shrew of a woman that you are, are not a sister of mine," Cas rolled her eyes and turned back to her father, "I have nothing to say to Alys."

"This is getting out of hand," Roose Bolton looked irritated, "there are too many Freys in this room to even breathe comfortably. I have let this game go on long enough. You, Casidhe, are not married to the Young Wolf. I know because the Lady Talisa is standing in the doorway. Do you really expect your father to believe this…this insane scheme of yours?" Cas hoped against hope that he would say the magic words that she needed him to say to make her next move work.

"You shouldn't even be here," concluded Lord Bolton. Cas could have sighed with relief. She took a few steps toward Bolton to close the gap between them.

"I should not be here? It seems that I have somehow polluted your plans for Westeros domination and have caused a terrible mess for you, but I, a Frey, am here and you…" she paused savoring the moment before her grand finale, "…you have messed with the wrong King's wife," whispered Casidhe as she quickly kneed the man's crotch. While he gasped for breath with his hands on his knees Cas aimed one decisive blow to the side of Bolton's neck. He dropped like a stone in the Crossing's great hall. She turned toward Robb Stark.

"He will wake, but when he does I think he should be tied to something."


	11. Chapter Eleven

Robb

Even as Casidhe made her attack, Bolton's men moved into action; this, in turn, sparked Frey's men—those who liked Cas, anyway—to defend her. Robb called for his own men to detain Roose before he regained consciousness and cause even more trouble. He then watched Casidhe smile at him as she was pinned in a bear hold by a bear of a man while another, smaller man put a knife to her throat. She was a still as a statue, her smile closed-lipped. Cas was the the very epicenter of the commotion in the hall, biding her time for reasons Robb could only guess—but he had a feeling that she was planning and plotting while scuffles and fist fights broke out around her. And then he could hear it, the faintest humming of a familiar tune. Robb listened while pulling out his sword. Grey Wind growled. He was not entirely certain but he believed that someone was humming the melody to "The Rains of Castamere" and Robb feared that the song could mean only one thing: Casidhe's fabled Red Wedding would come to pass.

The chill in the room began from its very center. The men that surrounded Casidhe slowly stopped and looked for the source. After what felt like forever, Robb understood—it was Cas humming the song. To what end, he wasn't sure; but he hoped that she was still fighting for his cause because his family and men depended on her—desperately.

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you saturn567, Jeremy, Savannah's Angels, and Beda13 for you feedback. I love to know what ya'll think.


	12. Chapter Twelve

***Thank you, Beda13, for your input! I know, I'm pretty inconsistent with how long my "chapters" are.

Casidhe _(three months-or so-before the opening of this story)_

She could not remember the last time she had eaten, nor could she remember the last time she cared. Casidhe had been in the blackest of fogs, depending on the kindness of a shepherd's family and the safety of their lean-to in the hills outside of Astapor. But, finally, she could not ignore the possibility of starvation. Her body screamed to be nourished, forcing her to think about her own life again. Cas was considering her very, very last option—Lys. She had never pictured herself willingly becoming a bed-slave, but the alternative, death, was even more unthinkable. She no longer welcomed that idea, even though her love and her livelihood had been taken and thrown away, respectively; and now all that was left to her were her wits, her body, and her damned sense of morality.

With Pentos, Volantis, and (hopefully) Lys stricken from her list of possible Free Cities, Cas had to think before daybreak what she could do. She took the last swig from her waterskin and, in the moonlight, saw bread near the entrance to the structure she inhabited. Cas looked up to her favorite constellation and thanked the old gods for sending her to such a generous shepherd's landholding, hoping that the old gods would not ignore her other prayers for direction.

"It's been a long time," her voice was raspy from sobbing, "and I've spurned you, I know, but I need help now…" she drifted off in an uneasy and restless sleep, even as a new hope blossomed from the seed freshly sewn from her lips, incrementally strengthening her will.

Cas woke to the sun's early morning rays, warming her chilled body and filling her with a renewed vigor for life. She would become a living tribute, her own story dedicated as a eulogy to the life and love lost. In her dream, she had seen the city of Astapor and thousands of fighting men and winged shadows. Cas felt that it was a sign, that she could get a fresh start in there with hard work and her own fighting spirit. So, she picked herself up, dusted herself off, and wolf whistled loudly.

Scanning the horizon, she finally saw in the distance something moving towards her. Cas folded the horse blanket she had been laying on, placed the waterskin's strap over her shoulder, grabbed her knapsack, rolled the leather saddle, and then trudged slowly toward the only thing that was left in the world that mattered to her.

Cas's waterskin was full and bulging in her hands, as she munched happily on the fish she had speared earlier. She leaned against her horse's flank staring at the river that would lead them to Astapor—and a new life.

"I missed you, buddy," Cas said rubbing the side of her stallion's neck, "how's my Shadow? Did you miss me?" his only reply was a sigh as he continued to graze at the weeds near the riverbank. In the distance, Cas could just make out the walls of the city.

It took Cas until the sun was at its highest point in the sky to reach the city's gate. Her first priority was to find some kind of job in the strange new city so that she could feed herself and her friend. Luckily, it did not take long: her fluency in high Valyrian and the Common Tongue, as well as her ability to quickly pick up the different dialects of Valyrian and her ability to speak at least conversationally in Dothraki, made her an easily marketed asset—plus her status as a horse owner solidified her as hireable.

For two days, she and Shadowcat crisscrossed Astapor delivering messages to different aristocrats and businessmen for a Westeros trading company, which allowed her to avoid wearing the socially stratified garb of the Astaporians. Cas chose to wear the same outfit as the trading company's livery stable—which held more white mules for the slaves than horses. She had learned from one too many burns that dressing as a lady or the wealthy could only get one into unnecessary trouble.

On the third day in Astapor, she carried a message to the Good Masters of the city, but was shocked to come across a business transaction of what appeared to be the city's total supply of Unsullied—Astapor's only form of protection.

Cas's heart stopped as she heard the cry that had haunted the hopes of her dreams the night she dreamt of Astapor and life. Casidhe could see three large birds. But, as she drew closer to the market outside of the palace-pyramid, she knew that she was not seeing birds, for her painted mustang would never be so uneasy around birds. They were as she had feard: dragons. The destruction of Astapor unfurled as Cas watched, helpless. However, she refused to stay long enough to join either side. With one last glance toward a small woman with long platinum blond hair and the fire raining from the dragons, Cas gave little encouragement to her spooked horse as Shadow galloped in the opposite direction, out of the city.

A/N: I hope this begins to clarify what's happening in the "present." Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_A/N: I think this may have lasted longer than 3+ months, as I said last chapter, but we'll see. _

_Casidhe (the past, Part 2)_

Dragons had returned. Her world would never be the same again. Cas had always lived by her own rules instead of those constructed by society. Now, she did not know if she would always be able to out play the game. Cas's ego had been set afire: she had been too afraid to even think before she spurred Shadowcat out of the city and away from imminent danger. Fear was in both their hearts, so they ran until Astapor was only a smudge on the horizon and Cas could pretend that she had not actually been afraid—that she was still as fearless as ever.

It was warm and humid that day, with only a mild breeze playing with the golden-hued grasses covering the hills that surrounded Slaver's Bay. At least she had not been so afraid as to ignore which direction they followed. In lieu of hugging the coast of the bay, she had chosen to steer the painted stallion toward the bend in the river that cut through the Ghisear, aiming for Meereen to be their first city stop instead of Yunkai, which rivaled Lys in its well known bedslave trade.

Their journey north was slow and the quiet was only broken by Cas's off-key singing; but Cas knew that she and her faithful companion would reach the city and find a way to make a living, because they somehow managed to keep on keeping on—always. She kept the river to her right, she told herself it was for direction's sake and for a constant source of water, but at the very back of her mind a stray thought would tickle her wandering daydreams with the reality—she was not fearless. She feared a return to slavery and she greatly feared the re-born dragons.

Looking from the sun's position on the horizon to the crook in the river, she estimated one more day's ride before they reached Meereen. With night setting in, Cas removed the many burdens Shadow carried and set up camp. Cas listened to her heaven, a fish crackling over a small fire and Shadow's slow crunch on his cud. She and her companion had traveled far and wide; so, before falling asleep to the rustle of grasses and the chirping of crickets, she found Shadowcat's constellation and prayed to the old gods-and any others that might have been listening—to thank them for blessing her with one friend.

* * *

As they approached the city, traffic grew thicker. Men-at-arms atop their chargers and various mules and drays pulling carts ladened with wares to be sold at the market filled the broad dirt road into the city. But it was the bronze-topped pyramids that caught Cas's eye, sending a shiver down her back and nasty feeling in her gut. Even as she crossed through the gate of the city, feeling as if the bronze banshees guarding the gate were about the spit their boiling oil at her, she knew that she would not be staying long. Meereen would never be home for Cas and Shadow.

In the marketplace, she bought a Dothraki-styled tent of simple, homespun fabric. Cas had a brilliant idea while shopping: she would set up a gypsy stall near the nicer part of Meereen's open-aired market and sell readings to wealthy ladies. She still had silken fabrics of high quality from Volantis tucked away in her saddlebags, not yet sold. They would come in handy as she peddled to the dim-witted masses. Her first customers were impressed and conned by Cas's wardrobe, as she had hoped. Cas had changed her costume from pageboy in livery to Volantanese gypsy in a red and gold-threaded skirt, golden jewelry, and beaded ivory top that exposed her tanned arms, abdomen, and chest, as well as a couple of the tattoos that marked her. She had even artistically draped pretty scarves in her tent, as well as golden decorations on Shadow's bridle. The very first reading was given to a young woman who had arrived in a group. She was wearing simple, well-made clothes and copper jewelry. Cas already had her speech planned for the woman who appeared to be a middle class merchant's daughter.

"The gods have blessed you, child," Cas began, creating a sing-song, rhythmic cadence to her voice. Her accented Meereenian dialect only adding to her mystique. The other woman's easy smile meant that Cas was right in thinking that she simply wanted the standard good fortune reading, "Let me see your palm, my beauty."

"What can you see?" the woman asked impatiently after she extended her hand, "what do you know?"

"Oh, my child, hush. The gods have much to say about you," no ring or other marriage indicator, "You, you will be married soon—"

"How soon? Can you see that?" she was eager, that meant that she already had someone in mind, Cas thought quickly. Before holding her hand, Cas would have bet that her mother was a seamstress or dressmaker by the fashionable look as well as the quality of the cloth. But Cas would now venture to say that the young woman was a dressmaker's apprentice due to the state of her hands and the well hidden but now visible seams that pieced the fabric together. Cas then closed her eyes, trying to pick out her next thought through the noise of the market, the women yelling shrilly at each passerby and the low baritones of men as they bartered with one another. Even through the wild smells of the marketplace-the sweaty bodies, street foods, and live animals-Cas thought that this girl smelled familiar. And then it hit her. She quickly looked to the friends and then smiled. She was almost sure of her "reading."

"It will be soon, child, very soon. Within the next year your butcher will have saved enough to ask for your hand. You will have children and happiness together, but you will also know some sadness." By the look of the young woman's face, she had hit her mark perfectly, even adding the fluff about sadness-Cas's dim view of reality he only hoped would temper her client.

"Is it my father, is he the sadness?" Cas had to do some thinking on that, tracing the lines on the woman's palm absentmindedly as she thought of a believable answer.

"The gods have given your father a tough path and, as it comes to an end, there will be sadness for you, but you will grow from it," even though her answer was vague, the woman began to cry, giving Cas a tip as her friends clambered to be next.

"Thank you so much, you have given me hope, happiness, and knowledge," the young woman touched her brow as a sign of respect and went to discuss her reading with a friend or sister. Cas spent the rest of the day pretending to read futures, earning a respectable sum of money as word spread that a knowledgeable psychic had taken residence in the marketplace that day.

Dusk finally settled on Meereen, the fishmongers and textile merchants packed their wares for the night, just as Cas the Great collapsed her tent and carefully folded her few worldly possessions, as well as the newly acquired food provisions, and packed them away in her various bags. She decided to head toward the Dothraki camp that she had heard was outside the city. Only the Dothraki understood her nomadic ways and her deep love for Shadow. She hoped that the khalasar would feel more like home than this city and its unwelcoming pyramids. Even though her psychic trade was child's play, Cas could not help but feel as if the city of Meereen was going to suffer great tragedy.

* * *

Cas and Shadow rode out to the khalasar, but were stopped by two bloodriders. In front of her, members of the khalasar stared at her from horseback, around fire pits, or through tent doorways. She thanked herself for having the foresight to change into her usual, simple outfit of slim fitting leather pants and shirt, designed for her but styled after men's fashion.

"What do you want here?" Cas feared that her Dothraki, while passable in conversation, would not be adequate enough to gain a spot in the khalasar.

"I wish to join the khalasar." She knew that the Dothraki respected strength and confidence, she only hoped that these were traits that they found valuable in women, "I have education, I speak the Common Tongue and Valyrian, I ride a horse like a Dothraki, and I can fight with sword or fist," she listed her resume, carefully choosing her words because her Dothraki didn't cover all that she wished to say. At the very least, she had been able to say roughly what she had wanted. The bloodriders laughed.

"Come, woman," Cas was not sure what would happen, but she followed the two riders all the way to the center of the camp. Cas could only assume that she had reached the khal's tent.

"What have you brought to me?" a man boomed from a throne-like chair on a raised dais, two women dancing in front of him and a third sitting on his lap.

"Khal, blood of my blood, this woman wishes to join the khalasar, she says she is valuable," one of her escorts tells the khal.

"She says she's a warrior," the other announces.

"The evening is good, khal, and it is good to meet you," Cas's greeting was awkward and she could tell that she was not meant to speak, but she continued, afraid that her escorts were digging her grave, "my name is Casidhe, and I would be very grateful if you allowed me to join your herd. I promise that I can take care of myself and contribute to the khalasar in whatever task you see fit." The khal studied Cas for a moment and then smiled.

"I wish to see you fight, if you say you are a great warrior, woman," Cas did not appreciate his tone, but she would fight if need be, "if you win, you are welcome to join freely; if you lose, we shall see. Jommo, come forward," a man that was still a boy, a year or two younger than Cas, stepped forward from the tents to her right, pulling a curved Dothraki blade from his belt. Cas slithered down from her horse's back, pulling her own blade out. It had been beautifully crafted.

Before she settled on her feet, Jommo charged toward her and Shadow, whom she gave a quick swat to move from the makeshift arena where the fight was breaking out, a cleared out circle with the diameter of four horses. Cas easily parried the boy's blow, paying more attention to the men and women that had gathered, she felt surrounded but not uncomfortable. Cas also liked the commotion and noise that permeated the air of the khalasar, so she knew she wanted to win-she wanted to stay And, with Jommo's brazen motions and use of brute force, Cas knew that she could take him easily. Instead continued to study her surroundings, the smell of horses, the thousands of small cooking fires, and tens of thousands of sweating, breathing bodies, Cas dodged yet another blow, and made her first attack. With a quick flick Cas took the boy by surprise and with his hesitation, she gained her advantage. In one fluid movement, she went from her initial attack, to a kill postion by knocking his blade from his hand and landing a small cut to the underside of Jommo's right knee causing him to drop to a kneel. With her own blade at his throat, Cas grabbed Jommo's small braid, looked up to the khal's face, and declared, "I win." The khal nodded to her, a smile spreading across his lips, Cas then cut the boy's hair rather than his throat.

She helped him up from his kneel and kissed both his cheeks, smiling apologetically at him. His face was as red as her skirt had been earlier and his eyes betrayed him as they shined with tears unshed, but he gave Cas a good-natured shrug and walked out of the center of cleared space. Shadow rejoined her as the khal stared her down.

"You are welcome to stay, outlander," decreed the khal.

A/N: I hope y'all enjoy the Cas's past as much as I like writing it.


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